


Letters

by ignazz



Category: Tintin - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 18:26:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3738850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignazz/pseuds/ignazz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haddock frets over his feelings for an elusive Tintin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters

The sound of chirping birds woke the captain up. It was a warm autumn noon, and upon his head weighted a bunch of whisky bottles.  
He had been drinking and writing all night long. Conveying words under the influence of alcohol was an ordeal by itself, and for Archibald Haddock, adding feelings to the mix made the whole thing an almost impossible task.

It all began a certain summer night, after a reunion in Tintin's flat. The captain had been laughing, drinking and chatting like he always did, but something didn't feel quite right. Perhaps it was the heat, or the copious amount of brandy, or maybe it was something he couldn't tell. It was then that he realized that his for the reporter surpassed those of a mere friendship.  
Of course this shook Haddock's life to its very core, and he went through the typical phases.  
First came denial "Impossible!! He's a man!! Ten thousand thundering typhoons, it's Tintin!!"  
Then followed doubt "But what if it is really happening?"  
Then acceptance "I guess a sailor's heart can't sail away from the truth..."  
And lastly, fear.

Yes, for it was fear what had been keeping the captain from clasping his arms around the reporter's body. Fear was always there, whispering and casting awful things into his mind "Without this fortune, I'm nothing more than an old, drunk and misserable sailor. Tintin is a talented boy, what could he possibly see in me?"  
And so Haddock decided that the good thing to do, was to bottle it all up, and then throw it into the dephs of his soul.

It worked for years, and allowed him to be by Tintin's side, even though he yearned for his love. They had the habit of writting letters to eachother once a week (something Tintin came up with) since the telephone felt somewhat impersonal. This of course helped the captain in his endeavor, but everything changed a few months ago. Tintin's letters suddenly stopped.

At first he thought that maybe the boy was just busy, but days and weeks would pass without news. He knew that Tintin was in town, but was unable to get to him.  
Again, fear had him under its grim thumb, and pressed on him more than ever: "Maybe he knows, oh God, HE KNOWS", "There's bound to be a woman in his life, such a handsome lad...", "He's fed with my drinking", and all kind of paranoid thoughts. But he couldn't handle it anymore, he had to put an end this.

And so the captain locked himself up in his study. For days he tried and tried, piling up crumbled paper, but at last he was able to face his friend. He had written it all, his soul layed naked in that envelope, and was ready to be delivered. Now, all he could hope for was that Lady Luck would smile on him.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first job ever, hope you liked it.


End file.
